Scarlett Evans and the Philosopher's Stone
by Children-of-the-Blood
Summary: This time, things are very different. Hogwarts is in a shock as the Girl-Who-Lived didn't make it to Hogwarts! The Wizarding world is only calmed by the assurances of the great Albus Dumbledore. But who is this other girl? An unknown, almost. Scarlett Evans. Fem. Harry
1. Chapter 1

**Dear Readers,**

**If you care to read these at all, I'd just like to say thanks for giving this story a chance! I must warn you however, that I am not a very good writer. At all. Every now and then I get a plot bunny that I just have to write down as it won't leave me a lone and writing relaxes me.**

**As I said, that doesn't make me a good writer. I'm in fact quite poor at it. Trying to get a good flow, good characterization, not going too over dramatic, etc. etc.**

**So that's just a warning! I'd appreciate any constructive criticism though!**

**Thanks! Enjoy :P**

**Warning: Disclaimer, I do not own anything in this story. My story shall differ from the book and movies of Harry Potter, but I do not own any of the lore, characters, setting, etc.****  
****Furthermore, I shall use some direct and some indirect quotes from the books and movies. To anyone who knows either well enough this will probably be evident as to where.****  
****Story rating may change from T to M as it progresses. We'll see.**

* * *

It wasn't a cold, rainy night with thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. It wasn't a night where the town was in bed, blissfully unaware of the danger about to plague them. In fact, children screamed in delight as they ran along the streets of the small British town, their costumes billowing around them in the cool autumn wind. Parents strolled at a more paced speed as they chatted with their friends, keeping their sugar-high kids just within their sights. Groups stopped at each, brightly decorated door, collecting sweets and lollies of every kind to fill the plastic pumpkin heads they carried.

However there was one house along the main road by the cemetery, which remained sparse in its decorations, only bothering to put up a single picture of a cheap witch on the door and a big bowl on top of the fence that never seemed to run out of sweets.

Inside the decidedly boring home, lived a very young family that neighbours had only seen a handful of times since they had moved in over a year ago. They never left their house, barely ever went into the yard and above all, never tried to talk to anyone

Currently, the red headed mother who was maybe 19, walked into her kitchen, ducking in the doorway as a stray beam of water burst from the direction of the sink, where another young 19-year-old man played in the soapy water. He was drenched from head to toe in water as he sprayed his daughter, who was in a similar state. The one year old squealed gleefully as she played with her daddy and continued to laugh as she was levitated away from the sink into a fluffy towel held by her mother.

"Look at you!" Lily laughed as she begun to dry her little girl. "What did you do, James?"

"Me?" James had the cheek to sound affronted, though not bothering to wipe the grin off of his face. "She started it!"

"Yes, I'm sure that our one year old daughter started the water fight as _you _washed the dishes."

"It's true." The man said, shaking out his dark, messy hair like a dog before placing his glasses back on his face. Walking into the lounge room, he began picking up toys as he listened to the sounds of families 'trick or treating' from door to door. Shaking his head, he regretted that he couldn't join them, muggles or not, but the risk was just too great. With the borders sealed off, they couldn't leave the UK and the war was raging on in full swing.

As Lily brushed a pale red ringlet behind her daughter's ear, she smiled sadly at her treasure. "Rose Anne Potter. What would we ever do without you?" She kissed her on the forehead with a sad smile on her face. "I wish you weren't destined for such greatness, because I just know that this is not a path that we can help you on."

Just then, the woman with the fiery hair grabbed her daughter as dread filled her. "Lily! Run! He's found us!"

An explosion then rocked her world and Lily Potter ran.

The men and women of the small town of Godric's Hollow noted the arrival of the stranger in the cloak. At first they were wary of them and prepared to head towards them in case the person made a move towards their children, however they relaxed slightly as they walked - or really glided - towards the cottage home of the young family. A few times in the last year, the young couple and their daughter had had a few people come and visit them, always arriving in hooded clothes and trying to be as discreet as possible. As it was Halloween, the townsfolk assumed that it was another of the family's friends dressing up for the occasion.

That was until they heard the screaming and saw the raging the fire.

Voldemort strode down the muggle-infested street as he made his way to the Potter household. He couldn't stand the vile screeches of the children as they ran around his feet, or the distrusting gazes of their pathetic parents. Once he had dealt with the Potters, the murderer decided that he would deal with the townsfolk. Until then, he couldn't alert his prey to his arrival, now could he?

As he arrived at the door, he saw his worm, Pettigrew, scuttle around and disappear behind the house to most likely incinerate the escape brooms waiting and use the shield runes Aldelrico Bulstrode had designed for the Death Eaters with… less talent. These runes would block the back door of the house and create a web around any windows on the back wall of the double-story house as well.

Voldemort cackled as he rapped his knuckles sharply on the door before raising his wand and releasing an almighty _bombarda_.

Inside, he heard screaming. The pureblood James Potter, who had shown _so_ much promise, was telling his mudblood wife to run with their daughter while he held Voldemort off. As was his cue, said bloodthirsty maniac flowed into the room, robes billowing ominously and dramatically as he fired spell after spell at Potter.

All the while, he kept a careful eye on the movement of Lily Potter as she ran up the stairs in the living room and to her right, cradling Rose against her chest. Wormtail had told him about the secret room in the nursery and quickly stunned James before sending a powerful curse towards the secret, magically expanded room, destroying it and the only floo port in the entire house. He then lent over the prone body of the father and whispered gently into his ear.

"Did you see that? Can you hear them?" He hissed teasingly. "The way your wife screams and your precious baby girl wails, waiting for their daddy to come and save them? But you wont. Oh no, James Potter, for you see, I have to kill you. As the merciful lord that I am, be thankful that I'm letting a blood traitor such as yourself even live without hearing the delicious cries of the family you swore to protect, as I corner them in the nursery. I hope you find some comfort in the fact that I won't torture them… much. Goodbye, you weakling."

With that, Voldemort uttered the killing curse and ascended the stares towards the nursery at the end of the house.

"Lily, lovely Lily. Step aside or I will kill you, too." Voldemort warned as he came face-to-face with the enraged and (though he grudgingly admitted it) powerful witch's wand.

"No. Please. Leave us alone. Take my life instead if you have too, but you can't have my daughter's!" She begged hopelessly. Voldemort cackled at her pain, her husband was dead, she and her daughter faced death's sweet embrace in the immanent future and there was nothing they could do about it.

"I've been asked to save your life, you know, they made me promise and I always keep my promises. I told them I would try. Either way, your daughter dies, but you could live on."

"No! Please just leave us alone." She knew it was a futile argument, but she was hoping that Dumbledore would appear as the wards had been triggered.

Voldemort mockingly sighed in regret. "You silly, pathetic mudblood. Your time is up."

To her credit, Lily fought back. The redhead wasn't so petrified by fear that she practically forgot that she wasn't defenseless. This angered Voldemort; he would accept no defiance from a filthy mudblood. The quick 'duel' – if it could be called that – resulted in screams as Lily spasmed on the floor under the _cruciatus_ curse. Voldemort, tired of her existence, levitated her so that she was facing her daughter, made her look the crying baby in the eye where she whispered 'mummy loves you' before a bolt of green took the life from behind her eyes.

Baby Rose Potter began to screech and wail again, piercing Voldemort with a gaze that was almost too powerful, too accusing, too comprehending of what had just happened.

"And last, but not least, the prophesized one. You, child, have been a thorn in my side ever since I heard that forsaken prophesy. But you are merely an infant so I cannot comprehend just how you are meant to kill me. But no matter, no matter. I shall lift this burden from your shoulders, it will just take a moment."

Voldemort had been preparing to add insult to injury for the _great_ Albus Dumbledore, by using his beloved Potters and especially his little savior to create another horcrux – even if the old coot never knew. He had started the ritual the moment he apparated into the… quaint village, preparing his magic and his soul to split so that he could further ensure his immortality.

As he raised his wand to the toddler, he felt something shifting deep inside him, but brushed it off. Nothing would interrupt him and then he would be undefeatable. Bringing the killing curse to his tongue, he released it and something snapped.

The villain had barely moments to even think, as the green light shot towards the girl, hit her right in the head and rebounded back to hit him. His magic reacted instantly, before he could comprehend what was happening. Then he died.

Dumbledore arrived just in time to watch the last of the old Potter house in Godric's Hollow collapse in on itself. He blanched as he ran into the ruins of the home, only to find James Potter lying crippled under the charred beams, undeniably deceased.

The old headmaster called in the depths of his magic and levitated himself up off of the floor and to the second story. It was taxing on his magical reserves, but he knew that if he placed all but the slightest pressure on the floor, it would crumble from beneath him. He had to be sure, however.

As he floated into the nursery, he saw that the safety room had been destroyed. It must have been blown up before the girls had gotten there, as Lily's charred body lay on the floor and Rose was curled in the corner of her room, debris from the furniture and roof around her. The devastated face of the headmaster took in the body of the little girl, saw what were probably the remains of the Dark Lord Tom, and he smiled.

Oh yes. Everything seemed to be going according to plan

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**So this is just a really short chapter to start off with. I'd like to know what people think.**

**I have a special love for fem Harry stories and have two very different fem Harry stories that I have been writing and am now publishing. This one shall become an Avengers crossover! I shan't include the avengers for a while now, though, not until probably 6****th**** year-ish?**

**I'll probably to a recap/summary at the beginning of the actual crossover though, for anyone who is only interested in that. But I'll be interested to see what people think as the story goes on.**

**If anyone is confused during the story, I'll try to answer any questions, as long as it doesn't give anything away.**

**I'd really like to hear what anyone thinks and if they can offer any constructive criticism and/or tips? Even just on spelling and grammar mistakes. Another question I have for anyone who cares, is in regards to the quotes I have used from the books and movies, are you meant to make special note of that during the chapters? Just because I find it annoying when I read it in other stories, but do you have to?**

**Also, if anyone has any plotline advice, ideas or requests, let me know and I'll take them under advisement!****Thanks again!**


	2. Chapter 2

**This came a little later than expected, my ****apologies. Please enjoy! Feedback would be wonderful!**

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If one was to look up 'Surrey, England', they'd read of a county about an hours drive from London that claimed some of the best homes and communities in the United Kingdom. They'd read of the beautiful, rolling country side with the rivers and creeks decorating the landscape. They'd see the 'personal recommendations' people give, talking about the safe neighbourhoods and beautiful, English homes. They'd tell you of the lovely and welcoming families and individuals that made up the Surrey community and would go onto tell you all about the different shops and restaurants you simply _must_ visit before you leave!

In fact, one would have to look no further than Little Whinging to see an example of a fine Surrey community! Lovely homes in pristine condition lined the street. Each morning, the women would wake up and start preparing their families for the day; cooking breakfast, laying out clothes and waking the sleepy ones before they could be late. Each morning the men (and some women) would drive off to work or head to the train station to travel to the city and most mothers would then walk their children to the local preschools, infant or junior schools. Then the ladies of Little Whinging would make their way to various cafes, or to one another's homes to have tea so that they could socialize – or really just gossip. Then, in the afternoon, the children would walk or catch the bus home, before the men returned in the evening to greet their family in time for the evening meal.

Life in Surrey was what many people would call cozy and quaint. But it was a good life.

If you were to just spend a day on Privet Drive, for example, you'd understand exactly what everyone was talking about. After the morning routine and the social events that followed, school would end children ran around the streets freely, often heading to the park or the shops for some sweets. Women were constantly seen talking to one another or chasing after their children, while the men talked and laughed boisterously about work, sports and their wives.

That's not to say Privet Drive didn't have their odd households, however.

No, at number 23, lived an old war veteran from the first and second world wars. He spent most of his days in a chair in his front lawn as he watched people walk by. He was a chronic 'sigher' as he reminisced, thinking about the friends he'd lost and the wife who had passed away but three months ago.

Number 17 Privet Drive belonged to the strange Ms. Cathleen Stran. She was a woman about to enter her middle ages with a strong jaw and firm blue eyes who had decided to forgo a life of family and instead focus on her career as a banker. Quite wealthy, though she was, she returned each and every day from work to a cold, dark, empty house. Strange woman, indeed.

At number 36 Privet Drive, the parents were more… free spirited than most, allowing their children to come and go at any hour of the day, consorting with any strange person, while the wife spent most of her time painting beautiful and extremely colourful designs inside and outside the house – often using the walls and fences as a canvas. Strangely enough, the husband was a fairly successful architect but never tried to curb his wife's shockingly bright ways.

But at number 4 Privet Drive, you couldn't have found a more ordinarily pleasant family. Ever since the Dursleys moved into the cozy home in 1980, the sun would light up the brass number four on their door and gleam upon the tidy front lawn with its trees and abundance of flowers; their perfume delighting passers by every time they bloomed.

Mr. Dursley was the director of a firm called Grunnings, a company famous for their high quality and innovative drills. He was a large, heavy set man that always spoilt his family. His loud guffaws could be heard houses away when he played with his son and he could often be seen at the park or in the yard spending time with his family. His wife, Mrs. Dursley, was a doting mother who kept her family under a firm hand, ensuring the children always behaved themselves. She was a prominent figure amongst several small social groups, as one of the ladies on the local school's Parents Association and head of the St. Williams women's and family church groups. Not to mention she was a regular socialite – though many a jealous mouth would tell you that that was why her neck was so long; so she could crane over garden fences and see what her neighbours were doing.

The Dursleys took a lot of pride in their home and never failed to show it off (not in an overly overt way, mind you) to whomsoever was coming over for tea. The windows were always sparkling, the floors, walls and even ceilings impeccably spotless and the furniture was never in any state disrepair. When one walked in, you couldn't help but notice the photos hung on the walls and placed strategically around the home. The photos would proudly show you a happy family, between the professionally taken portraits and the moments captured unexpectedly, showing joy and love as a large boy rode his first bike, or played his first video game with his father. There were photos of the family at the beach and a number of school photos lined up chronologically year by year. There were even photos of clearly large family events where all the extended family gathered for some celebration or another – the last being cousin Christian's wedding.

Strangely enough, though, there were a few photos that would pop up here and there with a fourth person in them. Only in formal photos though, like the photos the church would take of families every Christmas and Easter, or the photos of school events. This fourth person was a little girl. Small as she was, though, she was impossible to miss with her blazing red hair and eyes that glimmered in even the slightest light.

This girl was Scarlett Evans, the Dursley's one strange blemish upon their reputation; their delinquent niece.

Even with their niece, however, the Dursleys were as normal and happy as any family could be. You'd never expect them to be mixed up in anything strange or untoward.

And if they had it their way, they wouldn't be. Sadly, we don't always get what we want, do we?

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When you travel, what do you expect to see? Different cultures? Different architecture spreading throughout the country? Different species of plants and animals, like you never could have imagined? Perhaps you expect to see some things that are very similar to what you're used to: Rich and poor sharing the same street, good areas and bad areas of cities and towns, coffee shops and cafes on every other street and people of all different ages and colour all around you.

When you travel, most people do so to experience what the world has to offer; from the exotic foods and people, to the towering buildings and sprawling landscapes. You see the technological marvels and the natural beauty that different countries offer. You hear the different languages, get confused by the strange humour and daringly try some of the local food and games.

What most people don't expect to see and probably never will see, is a whole other world hidden away from prying eyes.

Most people would scoff at such a notion. With all the maps completed and technology we possess, it would be impossible to hide away another world! However, this just means that this hidden community is succeeding in keeping you ignorant and keeping you away.

For you see, this community is magical, really. I do mean that literally, for this group of people, animals and plants learnt long ago how to harness the wild power around them and learnt how to take care of the world. However, as the numbers of non-magic folk began to grow, their resentment and fear for those with magic also grew.

Soon the killings started. Then it escalated into a war, between magical folk and 'senseless' folk. On and off, this war has raged on for nearly a hundred thousand years, never settling as the Sensless would never be able to understand the Magicals and you always fear what you don't understand and what you fear, you hunt.

So long ago, the Magicals decided to end the wars by hiding away.

This way, they could protect themselves and the Senseless and still look after the world, maintaining a kind of balance.

These days, very, very few Senseless even knew that there even was magic, let alone a magical community! It was the greatest fear of the Magicals that the Senseless would discover their existence and war would break out once more, most likely unending until one side was exterminated by the other.

It was this issue that brought the most contention to the magical community, with different sides wanting to resolve the problem in different ways. Some believed in maintaining how things were currently and working on hiding themselves better. Another side believed that it was inevitable for the Senseless to discover their existence and wished to exterminate them before the Senseless could exterminate the Magicals. Another side believed that integration with the Senseless would work if they slowly reintroduced themselves so that they could get used to the Magicals and show them they meant no harm and were peaceful.

Therefore, it was this issue that had led to most of the wars amongst the magical community. They tried to keep the fighting mostly contained and always manageable, but it spilled over into the non-magical world. Most often it affected the non-magical families of magical people.

Petunia Dursley was one such person.

Petunia Dursley was born Petunia Evans and she was terrified of magic. She couldn't help it and over the years, her fear only grew worse and stronger.

It began when she was much younger and the 'lovely Lilly', her younger sister, would make strange things happen. She would do the scariest things with her powers, things that were unnatural, things that went against all the laws of nature! She started by bringing flowers back to life and then she'd make them appear out of thin air! When she was mad, things shattered and broke around her. Once, when she was fighting with Petunia, Lilly made the windows explode, cutting Petunia's face and arms. Lilly even managed to set fire to the shed out the back of the house, when it was raining, because she was trying to light the logs in the fireplace.

Petunia would call her a witch, but Lilly didn't care because she'd say 'not all witches are bad'. Petunia would call her a demon and Lilly would just get angry. But when Petunia called Lilly a freak, that was when her younger sister would get upset and run away.

When Lilly was accepted to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizadry, Petunia and Lilly drifted apart even further. Secretly, a part of Petunia was jealous of this fairytale life Lilly had, but largely she was just afraid. It wasn't just her sister that was a freak, there was a whole community of them and they were all dangerous!

But her parents practically worshipped her sister, their 'special little girl'. She was the favourite daughter and she was loved by just about everyone. They could never see what a freak she was. But Petunia could.

When she was seventeen and Lilly was fourteen, their parents had another baby. It was a complete accident, but they had married young and had had Petunia and Lilly quite young (having Petunia when their mother was nineteen and father twenty three), so it was still possible and their mother and the baby were happy and healthy all the way through the pregnancy.

Scarlett Evans was born on the 12th of October, 1976.

War in the wizarding world broke out 1979.

The only reason the Evans' knew that there was war, was because Lilly came home for the Christmas holidays ashen faced and scared. On October 31st, London Bridge had been blown up, killing nearly thirty people. Most of the world assumed it was another of the Provisional Irish Republican Army's terrorist attacks and blame was placed accordingly. However the IRA were actually denying any involvement and were claiming it must have been a rogue group. Most of the world either accepted this or continued to believe that the IRA was behind the attack, but the Magical Community knew that this event was the catalyst for something else. Something far more severe. Tensions between various factions in the European wizarding world had been climbing in the last couple of decades, the two key factions being led by the wizards Albus Dumbledore and Voldemort.

Voldemort had gathered a group of supporters amongst the wizards, who believed that the muggles needed to be exterminated before they discovered the wizarding world. Dumbledore and his followers believed that they needed to live harmoniously amongst the Senseless (muggles, he would correct you, being very proud of the new term he had come up with). This enraged many of the magical community as Dumbledore was suggesting they relinquish many of their cultural practices and beliefs just to pacify these 'muggles'.

Finally, Voldemort and his followers decided that they could not afford to wait any longer and declared war against Dumbledore and against 'muggles' by destroying London Bridge.

This war not only included the magical community though, but any non-magical family members. Families like the Evans'.

In the end, the war had cost her both of her parents and her younger sister. They were captured and questioned on the whereabouts of Lilly and when they could not find the middle daughter, they had no more need for the three Evans'.

Not once did Lilly step in. Not once did she even respond to the messages the family sent her.

Petunia had only escaped because she had taken the name Dursley when she married and the wizards felt no need to track her down.

She could never forgive her younger sister.

Her family had died for Lilly and she didn't even come to their funeral.

Three months later, on Halloween, Petunia was informed that her sister had been found dead in her home with her husband. Killed by the terrorist group that had plagued Europe. That same night marked an end to the terrorist attacks as they seemed to vanish overnight.

A part of Petunia was upset to hear that her sister had died and that Petunia was the last of her family. But largely, she could really only feel apathy towards her death. She had brought this upon herself and her family and now she paid the price.

Petunia did remember that Lilly had had a little girl and the police hadn't said that she'd died in the attack, but they didn't find her either. Petunia didn't bother to look into what happened to the little urchin. She didn't care. She didn't want to have anything to do with her sister or her freaky world ever again.

Unfortunately, Petunia could hardly seem to ever be left in peace. For it was not two mornings later, on November the 3rd, that Petunia woke up and went outside to get the morning paper, that she screamed at the sight of the baby on her doorstep.

* * *

**I just wanted to begin by saying, thank you all so much! Thank you for following, putting this story under favourites and especially reviewing! I had nearly forty notifications for this story alone! **

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**If anyone feels like shooting me a message about what they'd think, I'd appreciate it. I haven't dumped everything about the first war and (obviously) not about Scarlett's childhood. I'll explain more about her name next chapter. I'm worried that it completely makes sense to me, but you guys may just get confused and I may have completely missed the mark.**

**I tried a very different approach to this chapter, in terms of story set up, than I normally would. I wanted to really paint the scene, but I'm not sure if it feels like I've just dumped it all. Part of it, is because of my love of backstories. As I have said in all three of my latest stories, I love backstories because they really add more dimension to the stories, characters and causes. In both of my stories, both sides are more rational and have more rational and interesting causes to be fighting for. I'd be interested in what you guys think.**

**I'd also love any feedback you guys could offer about my writing.**

**Thanks for reading and your support!**


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